


Permission

by daintylemonsquare



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: Allusions to the events of Hell Night, Angst, Head Full All Prose, M/M, Some Jogan, Some Larythe, Touch Starved Julian, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daintylemonsquare/pseuds/daintylemonsquare
Summary: Julian Larson has a lot of feelings about being touched.
Relationships: Julian Larson-Armstrong/Clark Sawyer
Kudos: 4





	Permission

Julian Larson didn’t want to be touched.

When he was younger, no one was allowed to. He was a fussy child with a fussy mother. He was shielded from any unwanted and unsolicited touch. Soon enough, he learned to deflect those without the help of his mother or the nanny assigned to him at the time. Nothing could approach him without everyone within twenty feet knowing about it. With the exception, of course of the people closest to him. He clung to Dolce. And at some point, he clung to Travis. He reveled in pats on the head and the nuzzling and their shared giggles back when those were commonplace in their household. He was a different child around his parents than he was around strangers, and that was fine.

Several years later, when his body was figuring out what shape it was going to end up with and when he had to take a break from the job he was raised on, Julian was surrounded by strangers that he didn’t want touching him. He put on a show of bravado, of nonchalance, of haughtiness, as a way to show that he was, in a way, above regular high school. Even if it was a private school, his life was out there in Hollywood. Until, of course, a pair of boys decided to make him their friend. He let himself be shoved around in jest. His head was grabbed and around a strong arm as they joked about. He leaned on them as he nodded off during a sleepover. He put his arms around them, and they around him, as a sign of their camaraderie.

Julian began to resent one of those boys. The one with the gorgeous smile whenever he was able to untangle it from the frown that had taken residence on top of it. The one who forgot about him, forgot about them, when he found a boy he liked more. The one he’d drop anything for just to be with him. Julian resented the tiniest bit of contact—a brush of hands reaching over for a coffee mug, the grip that pulled him out of bed when he slept in, the casual arm around his shoulder when taking a photo together, the begrudging resignation of his hands on top of Julian’s hands when Julian asked him to teach him how to play the piano for a non-existent role he was auditioning for. He resented all of that because of how much he wanted them to mean something more than nothing. He resented craving it. He decided that instead of reveling in each of these, he shied away from them. Julian avoided touching him as he avoided his mother and father’s coworkers as a child. A frown of his own took permanent residence on his face. It had nowhere better to be since Julian was stuck with this boy.

This bled over elsewhere, when he ran away to be elsewhere. He was so used to avoiding one person’s touch that he didn’t notice that he was avoiding everyone else’s too. There was a friend in Hollywood. Tall, blond, musical, and kind. There was a time where they would sit close to one another and play games. There was a time, during a late night of filming, that they would clown around and he’d jump on the taller one’s back and they’d have a bit of fun before they crashed for the night. Now Julian found himself sitting in the corner of the couch that they liked to share in Julian’s trailer. The other boy didn’t say anything, only offered a smile and conversation. Julian figured it was better that he avoided that too, just to save himself the time and energy.

Except, when he went to Paris, he decided to forget that he ever made that decision. All because of a pretty face in a foreign city. Julian tried his best to dissuade it. The other one did too. But the pull was strong. Like a river after a night of raining. Like the event horizon of a black hole. Like a recovering alcoholic to a bar. Julian craved it. He hadn’t realized how much he craved it until he let the other boy kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and touch him and touch him and touch him and touch him. Suddenly it was morning. Julian found himself without a frown and with a boy. Unfortunately, it was a romance that was pried apart by distance and bad timing. Not that Julian knew that the other boy was panting on the other side of the gate as he sat on his seat, arms tight around himself and legs crossed. Julian could still feel his touch but he had to let go. It was better to quit cold turkey. He strangled every moment of yearning and every wish for time travel and curled into himself. Julian didn’t need him and that was fine. Everything wasn’t going to be fine.

Julian preferred to touch than to be touched. If he could find a way to control any sort of contact with another person, he would do it. There were no ulterior motives or underlying feelings because he touched first and he knew his motives well enough. In this way, he didn’t have to worry to much what any of it meant or wish that it would’ve meant something. In this way, he was untouchable. Which was why when he met that fan, he held his hand and ruffled his poorly dyed blond hair and hung around him. It meant nothing.

Julian didn’t know it meant something. Not until he was being dragged away from Stuart house by hands tight around his wrist. Not until he was knocked out and carried by those same hands. Not until those hands had him pinned against a wall with a knife. He wasn’t untouchable, he was realizing during each step he took to his potential demise. And this was his fault. This was his fault. This was his fault. This was his fault.

Then Julian didn’t feel for a very long time.

When he woke, it was a blur of people. The only face he felt comfortable around was his mom’s. Then his dad’s. He was that kid again that nobody was allowed to touch and he found solace in that. He was under his mother’s wing. He was behind his father’s stride. He was a kid. He remembered that he was just a kid and he wanted to go home. No one touched him all the way home.

Months passed. He called those he needed to call. He talked to those he needed to talk to. He apologized to everyone. He went to therapy sessions and got better, but not better enough. People came to visit. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. Especially not the two boys he met at freshman orientation. It was a difficult conversation. So difficult that Julian had his legs tucked to his chest and arms clasped around his knees just so he wouldn’t spill out of his body. He didn’t let them touch him. If he let one touch him, the other would have to as well, and Julian couldn’t handle that. He didn’t want to handle that. They didn’t fully comprehend why Julian wouldn’t let them hug him goodbye. In a way they did, but not in the way that Julian knew in himself.

He promised to be with them before the summer ended. Now that he knew what shape their relationship was going to take after the dust and ash had settled, maybe Julian could look forward. Look beyond. Then go there.

Julian Larson had plenty of friends in Los Angeles. All of them he wouldn’t mind being affectionate with. This time around, he felt the need to reclaim his control over himself after having it get taken away from him for more than he bargained for. Soon enough, he’d gotten back to the swing of it. But there was this one boy, tall, blond, musical, and kind. Similar to the other one in ways that he didn’t like. Close friend, handsome, and concerned. He was less angry and less confused, of course, but Julian could sense himself falling into the same patterns he had taken with the one from Dalton Academy. One was enough, he decided. Let this one be a friend, he begged himself.

He noticed. Unlike the other boy, this one noticed. He noticed when Julian pressed himself against the car door when he picked Julian up from the house to get some fresh air. He noticed Julian drifting from his outstretched arms after a hug that lasted for less than a second. He noticed Julian’s tired, rueful smile. He noticed Julian forcing himself not to lean on him when they watched a movie together and he was dozing off. He noticed and comprehended.

Julian liked it when Clark asked if he could help him up. He liked it when Clark asked if touching his shoulders was okay. He liked it when Clark offered him the guitar he had in his trailer and pointed at where his fingers should go to make the chord instead of placing them there with his own hand. Julian liked his patience and the warmth that came with it. Just as much as Julian liked that song that Clark wrote for him. Even though he remained a good distance away, Julian could feel his touch and he didn’t resent it, for once. It wasn’t a daydream. It wasn’t something he had to yearn for. He didn’t assign meaning to it or wished he could assign meaning to it. Clark had left it out all in the open. Clark wasn’t going anywhere or chasing someone else in the interim. He was there and he waited and he asked permission even with the smallest tap. And Julian liked that. Liked how easy and natural it was. Liked how genuine Clark’s smile was. Liked the song he sang. Like the security in its certainty.

Clark’s embraces were all encompassing. It was like being enveloped by a blanket straight out of the drier. Julian melted into Clark’s chest, head tucked under Clark’s chin, with Clark’s hand cradling the back of his head. Julian’s hands traveled up Clark’s back and he held onto the fabric as he began to cry. He’d been crying so much in therapy, he was surprised he had it in him to keep at it but there he was. But these weren’t heavy tears. It was relief. Clark held Julian closer and kissed his temple. Julian could still feel Clark’s lips on his lips. Julian was too surprised of his own decision to surge forward and kiss Clark himself that he couldn’t bring himself to do it again. But he wanted to. Again and again and again. Clark was patient though, he always had been. He hummed a tune against Julian until Julian stopped crying. Julian let himself be held until he could memorize how Clark felt against his body.

**Author's Note:**

> Song I listened to on repeat while writing this:  
> Gavi's Song by Lindsey Stirling


End file.
